


i sold my yesterdays to you.

by alicejericho



Series: wasting my young years. [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicejericho/pseuds/alicejericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent notices when Jack turns up the radio and he looks sideways; Jack responds by saying it’s too quiet. Kent shifts in his seat, takes Jack’s hand and lowers it to rest on his knee, just shy of the steering wheel. Jack squeezes and Kent smiles to himself. He’ll enjoy Jack-and-Kent while he still can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i sold my yesterdays to you.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: Kent’s (brief but there) use of ableist language and some swears and behaviour that is a little emotionally manipulative. Usual apology for any Australian language that got past the US English spell-check function.

* * *

 

Kent doesn’t really like the way Jack drives – it’s a little erratic and he never seems to know where he’s going – but he likes being with Jack while he’s driving. Kent likes that Jack listens to music that their parents grew up with. Kent likes that Jack will hold his hand tightly because he doesn’t have to worry about pulling away at a moment’s notice. Kent likes that Jack doesn’t think too hard about what they’re doing when it’s just the two of them.

They’re driving from Jack’s parents’ house in Quebec to Kent’s parents’ in New York and Jack’s pretty quiet the entire ride. It’s pretty normal for Jack and its pretty normal for Kent to just keep talking to fill the silence. He almost never talks about hockey because Jack gets a little shaky and Kent gets it – Jack’s life has been nothing but hockey and, even if he is really good at it, he needs a break from it every now and then.

When they stop for gas at some dingy little gas station just across the border Kent has to get out of the car and check what’s going on because it shouldn’t take fifteen minutes to get snacks and pay. He sees Jack standing at the counter, fumbling with his wallet. Kent knows right away what’s happened.

“Zimms, the fuck is taking so long?” He asks, stepping forward and clasping a tight hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are red as he pushes his wallet into Kent’s hands and says something in French – Kent doesn’t know what but he doesn’t need to.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” Kent says to the pretty girl behind the till. “He’s functionally retarded.”

Jack pushes him roughly, looking positively offended, and Kent just smiles back sweetly. The girl giggles because she knows what’s happening, too – also because she probably knows who both of them are which makes things a little worse.

It’s becoming increasingly more common for Jack to forget English in the presence of attractive females and Kent won’t admit that he’s jealous except that he’s definitely jealous.

“Have a nice day,” Kent says as Jack takes their snacks, “and please refrain from telling the press that the next hockey God is a fucking moron.”

Jack has the ability to shove Kent out the door but he doesn’t say anything in English until they’re at the car. “Did you have to say that?” he asks, avoiding eye contact as he opens the door.

“Do you have to be so painfully awkward?” Kent counters as he gets into the car. “You thought she was hot – cool. Any normal person would have asked for her fucking number. And the number of the last girl and the girl before that.”

“I don’t want their numbers, though,” Jack says forcefully as he drops into the driver’s seat with a thud. “I don’t need their numbers because I have you.” There’s a beat. “I have you, right?”

Kent’s been on the receiving end of that look a few times – particularly droopy eyes, a worried frown and flaring nostrils as Jack has to consciously remember how to breathe. He hates that look, especially when it’s directed at him.

“You have me,” Kent says softly. “You just don’t get that way around me and – I don’t know.”

Jack’s brow quirks because he clearly doesn’t understand what Kent means. Kent shakes his head, sighs and drops it.

It takes Kent a few years to realize that it’s because Jack’s more comfortable with Kent than is with anyone else. At the time Kent assumes it’s because Jack’s more attracted to those girls than he is Kent. It hurts.

They’re just two seventeen year olds – at least they are while it’s just the two of them in the car – and sometimes Kent gets worried because he doesn’t think anyone else will ever make him feel he way Jack does. He would like to believe that they will always be Jack-and-Kent but Jack’s going to go first and Kent’s going to go second and they’ll probably end up on different sides of the country and they won’t get to be Jack-and-Kent any more.

Kent notices when Jack turns up the radio and he looks sideways; Jack responds by saying it’s too quiet. Kent shifts in his seat, takes Jack’s hand and lowers it to rest on his knee, just shy of the steering wheel. Jack squeezes and Kent smiles to himself. He’ll enjoy Jack-and-Kent while he still can.

* * *

By the time they reach the house the sun is getting lower in the sky and it’s definitely time for something to eat.

Kent’s done a really good job at not falling asleep but he’s glad they’ve made it because he’s tired and he knows that Jack is, too. He gives Jack’s hand one more squeeze before pulling his bag out of the backseat and getting out of the car.

“You coming?” He asks, leaning down to poke his head back into the car.

“I’m just going to call Mama and tell her we made it,” Jack answers and Kent doesn’t say anything about how it can wait until they’re inside.

He has to ring the doorbell because his mom is extra cautious and keeps the front door locked at all times – it gives Jack enough time to at least get out of the car before it opens, though. His mom hugs him tightly, ushers him inside and waits patiently for Jack to get to her so she can hug him, too. Kent watches the hug and is so happy that his parents like Jack.

Dinner has just been started and his dad isn’t yet home from work so they have time to head to his room and unload their bags. And time to fool around a little, maybe.

Jack seems to have the same idea because when the door is closed he doesn’t appear surprised when Kent leans into a seven-hours-too-late kiss. Kent pushes Jack back against the door and Jack grabs rather clumsily at Kent’s face, pulling him as close as he can. Kent ignores the thought running through his mind that it’s not like Jack to be so grabby when people – _parents_ – could interrupt them at any time because it’s just really nice to have Jack kissing him. Kent’s hands find their way to the curls at the back of Jack’s neck as they always do and he makes sure his fingers are entangled and he tugs with just the right amount of force to make Jake moan into his mouth.

They lose time as they kiss, remaining against the door, and even when they’re running out of breath they don’t pull away. Kent is sure that he would run out of oxygen before he was the one to break the kiss. It’s not a problem though because Jack pulls away the moment he hears a sound on the other side of the door. The doorknob turns and Jack budges only a little when someone attempts to open the door. Jack pales, drops his hands and pushes Kent away.

“Boys?”

“Gin!” Kent says, pushing Jack sideward so that his older sister can open the door.

“You two making out against the door or something?” she asks with a laugh. Jack averts his eyes immediately.

“Just our bags,” Kent answers casually and Virginia nods unsuspectingly. She opens her arms and Kent steps forward to hug her without hesitation because it’s been a few months and he’s missed her a lot.

“Come on, Jack,” Virginia says as she steps back from Kent. Kent watches Jack hesitate to hug her but he eventually does. Kent tries not to think too much about any strange things that Jack is doing because they don’t have much longer before The Draft and any time they have left together doesn’t need to be spent fighting.

“We’ll come down in a minute, Gin,” Kent says when he notices his sister hovering by the door. “I’m just going to unpack.”

“Be quick. I missed you.”

Kent smiles and nods as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Jack takes a seat on the bed and hangs his head a little. Kent says nothing as he lifts his bag onto the bed and begins to pull out his clothes. He ignores the way Jack’s breathing shallows because it only lasts for a few minutes before Jack resituates himself so that he’s lying on the bed behind the bag.

“You speak to your mom?” Kent asks. Jack nods. “Everything good?” Jack nods again. “Man, what’s up? If this is about Gin, she doesn’t know and if she did know she wouldn’t care. And really,” Kent speaks with more snap than he intended, “you’re going to have it a hell of a lot easier up there than I am because at least you’re interested in chicks, too.”

Jack’s eyes shut and he sighs. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Because you’re clearly worried about us being found out. When you get drafted you can go about your life and nobody ever has to know that you’re into guys. Me, though – I get the lovely ordeal of being closeted for the rest of for-fucking-ever.”

Jack’s eyes open and Kent hates the pity he sees in his face. He tries to shrug it off, turning around and dropping his shoes beside his dresser, but the box-spring bangs up against the wall and its seconds before Jack is standing right behind him.

“I want to be with you. I don’t want anyone to tell us that we can’t be together because I don’t know if I could take that.”

Kent is still surprised when Jack speaks openly. Even if they’ve been some form of together for a little more than twelve months, Jack’s emotions are usually a locked box – if his hockey robot psyche hasn’t completely taken over and removed them – and to have him say this what he said after the experience at the gas station… It makes Kent feel even worse about The Draft.

He spins quickly, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and burying his head into the expanse of chest that Jack’s worked hard on over the past year. He likes this Jack who is beginning to look like a man, like his father; he also liked sixteen year old Jack who was _just barely_ growing out of his baby fat.

He likes every Jack.

Kent doesn’t say anything about The Draft. Kent doesn’t say anything at all. He’s getting worse at the emotional, honest moments and it kills him a little every time he can’t say something to make Jack feel better. It kills him a little every time he can’t finish a thought in his head that will make himself feel better.

“It’s going to end soon,” Jack mutters, “and this is all going to be nothing.”

“Jack,” Kent sighs. “This is always going to be everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to ‘my youth is yours.’ which is technically the first draft of that fic that I had to change the title of because they did not fit together at all. It was also supposed to go up yesterday (technically two days ago because it literally just went 12.01 and its now Sunday) but I got too excited about going to Taylor Swift.
> 
> The original notes for ‘my youth is yours.’ were “Full disclosure: this was supposed to be fun and carefree and then it wasn’t at all because I started thinking too much about when it was set and then it was set really close to the draft and well, yeah.”
> 
> Might maybe be a third part. Maybe.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](theonlymonsterisme.tumblr.com)


End file.
